|This is pretty close actually.|
I am drinking a beer (nice EPA from Marston's) and reflecting on the days at work so far. I have also gone out and got some fish and chips, thus blowing my food budget for this week and next in a binge, and have failed to do any work in the cottage so far. I have been staying later at work to compensate so I shouldn't complain. I have had two video calls with home, the first hampered by a lack of mike at my end, but they have gone reasonably well. And I've some early nights.
|I'd love to look like this.|
I am enjoying, as much as I can, the time to myself. I have barely worn my boring clothes whilst in the cottage and have made the most of dress up time. Last night I slept for a bit in my chemise as well, which was nice. In the mornings and evenings I make a point not to wear any footwear but my boots and wedges and that is nice too. I can really feel it in my calves mind, they ain't used to this, and I do wonder why any woman would choose to wear heels. I mean, I know why I do it, but I think women have more to deal with on a day by day basis - basically put: I can add a little madness, but women could stand to lose a bit, no? I also took the liberty of stuffing the front of my floaty blouse just now (socks alas) and can see a little more on why people would buy this. Unfortunately I have man arms, so it's a bit short on me. I seem to have developed something of a paunch over summer too - too much driving and eating well, not enough stressing and running about my place of work in a tizz I suspect.
|Or this. No, more this.|
|Or even this.|
I wish I had long hair to fall on my shoulders. I wish I could shave my legs and armpits. I wish I could share this with Tilly.
The images collected here were supposed to illustrate my day but I got rather sidetracked by skirts, as you can probably see. I have no idea why I would like to be able to look like that - it's nothing about being a woman or being turned on, but something about the image is what I am hankering for. It is part of the liberation and the feeling I suppose, for what that's worth.
Oh, Quindon Tarver: